


No One Loves Me But Me

by voxDei



Series: This Was a Bad Idea to Start With and it's Only Gotten Worse [1]
Category: Warframe
Genre: M/M, PWP, Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen, dubcon, probably a tad ooc, selfcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7238377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxDei/pseuds/voxDei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a mirror, he decides quickly, taking a step forward again; his reflection does the same. A funhouse mirror that distorts and mutates the image. It looks like someone ran his image through a Technocyte filter, put growths and stunted appendages on his face and limbs. Then his reflection laughs, a harsh, high sound, and strides towards him, and shit no it’s not a reflection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Loves Me But Me

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Alad V's Bizarre Adventure: Spoiling Some Salad](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7208270) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> No one asked for this self indulgent disaster but here you are enjoy
> 
> (I'm so sorry)

He finds himself walking. He doesn’t know why, or to where, and he only vaguely recognizes the corridor he’s in. All Corpus construction looks the same, it doesn’t matter. He watches his surroundings with vague disinterest, then startles back as he rounds a corner; the other him down the hallway does the same.

It’s a mirror, he decides quickly, taking a step forward again; his reflection does the same. A funhouse mirror that distorts and mutates the image. It looks like someone ran his image through a Technocyte filter, put growths and stunted appendages on his face and limbs. Then his reflection laughs, a harsh, high sound, and strides towards him, and shit no it’s not a reflection.

“You look so scared! Am I really that frightening?”

He hadn’t realized he’d backed up sharply, face stretched with alarm. “What is this?”

“You don’t know? Ahh it must not have happened yet.” The other Alad tsks, stepping forward. “Things… shall we say, get interesting, after the Zanuka Project.”

“You… that’s absurd, you are not—”

His other self steps closer, head tilted almost curiously, watching him. He swallows, wary; he doesn’t know if his apparent future self is contagious, if the Infestation could be passed through contact like this. Research shows that it can be, but in… whatever this is? Dream, hallucination, whatever? He doesn’t know. He’s not all that keen to find out, either, but his other self doesn’t look like he’d let him run. 

The other Alad is less than six inches away now, peering at him with interest. “My my, look at me… you look so tired, Alad.” He laughs, as if at a joke, and the (original!) Alad scowls and revises his mental description of his other from ‘he’ to ‘it’. It’s Infested, now, hardly a person. It doesn’t matter that it wears his face.

The Infested laughs again and reaches out, caressing his face, and he flinches away from it; its fingers are elongated and bulging in odd places, mutated. It keeps laughing and strokes his cheek. “Shh now, do you think I’m going to hurt you? Hurt myself?” It clucks, smile spreading and pulling at the Infested growths on the side of its face. “I don’t hate myself enough for that, not any more.”

It kisses him, then, and he chokes and recoils and shoves it away. “Don’t you dare! You—”

His Infested self shakes its head, tsking. “Enough of that, there’s no need for it here. There’s no one else to see, Alad, just yourself.”

He’s pressed up back against the wall away from his counterpart, teeth clenched. “Don’t touch me.”

The other’s misshapen hand presses lightly on his chest, its other, more normal appendage feeling at his hip. “Now now, you don’t really want me to go. You can’t put up this facade against me, Alad, I am you!”

He bares his teeth in a snarl and shoves at the other, but it grabs his wrist and holds him still. “You want it and you’re afraid of wanting it, afraid of anything you can’t control, and I should know because _I remember_. I remember being ruled by that fear and I’ve had enough of it.” It brings their mouths together again, hot tongue flicking at his former self’s lips. “Forget the fear, Alad, who knows you better than yourself?”

He tries to speak but can’t, his breath is lodged in his throat and his counterpart palms the front of his pants, making him squeak. The other leers at him, watching his face heat, then kisses him again, deeply. His mouth is pressed open and invaded, the other’s slimy tongue sliding against his own, making him gasp. He feels hot under the skin, the old anxiety, the thought of being seen like this, so humiliatingly out of control, making his gut burn, but the Infestation squeezes his groin and he can’t stop the sound he makes. His counterpart grins, undoing the clasps on his clothes, and he feels so heavy and warm and _yes, why not…_

Rubber strokes skin and he swallows a keen, feeling himself being pulled and played with. His other kisses wetly at his collarbone, coat and collar discarded, and he shudders at the contact, thick saliva leaving cold trails on his skin. His thin chest is stroked, mismatched hands curling around his ribs and waist, and the Infestation rocks against him, breath hot on his skin. 

It groans, mouthing wetly at his throat. “Yes, yes… I want to be inside you, my old friend, would you let me do that?”

His reason is aghast, gaping itself into speechlessness and unable to stop him from nodding. He doesn’t even know why he wants it, only that the thought seems inexplicably appealing, desirable. His other groans again and sucks a hot, wet patch on his neck, making him gasp and writhe. A hand gropes his crotch again, sliding back to press against his asshole. He squirms in place, feeling something slick and cold on his skin; a thick mucus of some sort, most likely. His higher functions are offline but even now he’s observing, taking notes on what the Technocyte virus will do to him in his future. He can’t bring himself to find it disgusting.

Long, thin fingers press up inside, making his legs almost give out; his other laughs and presses him to the wall, holding him up. “Relax, Alad, let us in.”

He squirms, breath coming in short gasps as he feels himself stretched open, prepared. His other had gotten it’s own clothes undone, and he glances down and makes the other laugh again with his expression. Sweet profit, the mutations are… extensive. “That… there’s no way that will fit.”

His other squeezes itself, causing clear mucus to drip from the head. “Oh, yes it will.”

Fingers retreat from his ass and his counterpart grabs hold of him bodily, hoisting him up. Alad yelps and brings his legs up instinctively, clutching them around his other’s waist for support. The Infestation seems to have no trouble holding him up, and it braces him against the wall, almost leering at him. He can feel its… monstrosity pressed against his taint, and he swallows thickly. It kisses him again, deeply, lovingly, and smirks. “As if we would hurt you.”

Then it’s there, hard flesh stretching him open and making him cry out, carving out a space for itself inside him. His legs tighten sporadically around his other’s waist, hands clutching at the bulbous growths on its back. The presence of it is immense, impossible to ignore or deny, and he can’t stop himself from moaning loudly. His counterpart laughs, filling him up mercilessly, until there’s nowhere left to go. It kisses hard at his neck, sucking a mottled red spot into his skin. “Isn’t this glorious, old friend? Can’t you feel it, this unity?”

Unfortunately for inteligent conversation, Alad’s words had fled him, leaving him a gasping quivering mess. The Infestation tsks and draws back slowly, then snaps its hips to make its past self scream. 

It’s intense, this thrusting, pulsing, throbbing motion. Alad can’t keep up, can only hold on and let himself get wreaked. It’s too much, and he moans uncontrollably when his counterpart grabs for his cock, stroking it in short bursts. His eyes roll back in his head; there’s no stopping this. He spills into the Infestation’s hand, arching sharply inwards and crying out as if in pain. The aftershocks keep going, pulsing through him with every thrust of his future self. The Infestation growls, slamming him into the wall and heat, searing heat bursts inside him. He gasps, clawing at his other, as movement stills, his future self resting heavily against him, panting. 

His insides burn dully, heart thumping in his chest, and all he can do is try to catch his breath too. He aches all over, mouth tasting oddly sweet, and he hears his other murmur something. He can’t make it out, though, and his vision seems to be fading. His cheek rests into the stubby tendrils on his counterpart’s shoulder and he stops breathing.

Then he jolts awake, bonking his head on the table it had been resting on and feeling an inexplicable terror. There’s a siren going off and open logbooks and a half-finished robot core swim into sight. His, his work, yes. His research. He must have fallen asleep. Again.

He stands and shakes his head, reaching for a console to lock down his labs; sirens mean an attack, and that’s what blast doors are for.

It’s only when he tries to walk that he feels uncomfortable stickiness in his trousers.

_Eugh._


End file.
